


Replay

by orphan_account



Category: Donnie Wahlberg - Fandom, his ex wife
Genre: F/M, Reconciliation, Second Chances, changesbutdoesntdie, loveneverdies, notnamingher, weallknow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Donnie finds himself processing his emotions. Processing the process. It takes time.There are different kinds of love, but even when you find someone new, the old feelings can live on in the shadows...As life throws some curveballs, can Donnie and the one he never truly got over find their way back together?I don't know these people in real life. I make no money from this story. This is fiction. If some true things worked their way in subconsciously, I .. uh.. Fiction. :)





	1. Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie's mistakes and regrets

Late 2008/early 2009 : Grieving

"'Cuz it's two in the morning, girl, whatchu wanna do.."

Donnie let the CD play, taking another swig. That song wasn't one of the more popular tracks from The Block album, but it was perhaps the most heartfelt and personal for him.

"I really fucked up. She's really not gonna take me back," he muttered aloud to the empty room.

Every room felt empty. It didn't matter how he decorated it, how much furniture he fit into it; the silence was deafening.

Yeah, there were other girls - two; each one actually meant something to him in her own way. His wife had forgiven him the first time, but the second time? She'd had enough. "I would've let you do whatever, if you'd been honest with me," she'd admitted. That killed him. She'd loved him enough to want to preserve the life they'd built together, the family they'd created, that she would have allowed him to date other women, as long as he did it discretely.

He could have had it all: the loving wife and home, and a life of bad-boy midlife crisis affairs on the side. 

Now he had.. this. Looking around, the place screaming 'bachelor pad': frozen dinners for one, big screen TV to distract him from reality.. 

Donnie sighed, hitting the replay button just before the CD segued into Grown Man. He didn't feel like a grown man; he felt like that loved-up, idealistic twenty-something-year old man-child he'd once been. What other woman had been there since 'back in the day,' had seen him through good times and bad, had lived simply, earning her own money, largely staying out of the spotlight..? Could he really trust any of these girls he was involved with now, the ones who stalked him online, who researched his likes and dislikes, who coveted his wealth and status or wanted fame of their own? 

Donnie remembered with a sad smile some of the things she'd said and done that had showed him how real she was. His ex had refused to consider plastic surgery of any kind, although she did agree to have her teeth whitened. He loved her smile, before and after. Such a simple thing, yet it meant the world to him. 

He recalled one particular important red-carpet event. He'd spent hours preening and primping, while his wife had taken her time, puttering around the house like it was any ordinary day. 

"Would you please, PLEASE get ready? We have to leave in an hour, or we'll get stuck in traffic!" How those impatient, impulsive words stung him now. He'd been a fool.

At last, with a sly smile, she'd slipped into her slinky gown, smoothed on a little lip gloss, brushed her hair, and pronounced, "Okay. I'm ready."

Donnie, fixing his tie for the umpteenth time, had stared at her, incredulous.

"You DO know there are gonna be some big names there tonight, right? We'll have photo ops, maybe make the rags.. and.. you.. just.."

She'd quirked a brow at him, and his heart had stuttered in his chest. She was right, as usual. She looked gorgeous. No one would ever guess it had taken her ten minutes to get ready, while he'd sweated and stressed for half the day. None of it - the money, the media attention, the brushing shoulders with his big-name co-stars - had ever fazed her. Donnie could've worked at McDonald's, and she'd still have loved him, still have cleaned his house and cooked his meals and made love to him even when she was worn out. 

What a fool.

He might love again, maybe even marry again - but he would never, ever replace what he had lost.

If only life had a 'replay' button, Donnie mused.


	2. Ups and Downs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie finds solace in the arms of another.. some of the time, anyway.
> 
> It isn't enough.

2009 through 2010/2011ish

She'd gotten her wish. He was 'free.' Sometimes Newgirl spent the night, or even a weekend, but the less time they spent together, the less chance there was of him saying something to set her off.

She liked to drink, Newgirl did. She was young, no kids; why shouldn't she? He bought her clothes, designer purses, shoes; he took her out, mostly to Celtics games. Fans photographed them together, but he never truly claimed her as more than a 'pal.' Sheepish grins and half-mumbled replies didn't count. 

It was too soon. It was too uncertain.

They broke up and made up so often, he couldn't keep track. Every rumor of a split was true within a matter of days, even if it hadn't been true when started. When he got a job in NYC, she refused to move; her friends, her family, and her 'scene' were in Cali. NYC was cold, harsh, serious; she wanted fun in the sun. Newgirl wanted him to have more free time, like before Blue Bloods. Why couldn't she support his career? His ex wife had..

There were health problems, more than her drinking. There were pills, supposed to be short-term, but now a habit. She got physical a few times, putting hands on him, hurting him. The one time he put hands on her, in self defense, he cried. It broke him.

Newgirl was nice to some fans, nasty to others. She dated - behind his back at first, then openly, saying he was gone too much. The apartment he'd rented for her was trashed; the dog he'd gotten her as a companion, neglected. He wanted to save her, but she was too damaged. Her history included a dark chapter, a violent episode which had sent her into this spiral of self-abuse, self-medicating, an eating disorder.. He wondered if it went back further, to someone in her family he'd never liked, someone who gave him the creeps. Had she been a victim then, too? Regardless of the answer, Donnie couldn't fix her.

There were 'surprise' visits to set. Crew members were never sure whether or not to allow her into his trailer to wait for him; were they back on this week, or off? Newgirl put herself in the hospital a few times - cries for help, or maybe to make him come 'home.' Donnie stood firm.

A few other girls tempted him, but nothing serious. Dalliances. So many fans had pointed out how much Newgirl resembled his ex, and he had to admit it at last. Every 'new girl' had something that favored his ex wife: the lips, or the hair, or the skin tone.. Maybe he needed fixing, too.

After it ended for the final time, he made it a point to call her mom and ask about Newgirl's well-being every two weeks or so. Mom understood why he'd broken it off. Newgirl eventually detached, hooking up with a Backstreet Boy's brother, followed by a string of nobodies. His own mother had never liked Newgirl, but that was a tidbit best left unshared. The calls became less frequent, until those, too, ceased. 

Work became his mistress. After meeting a girl at a club and being asked to go home with her, Donnie decided to break his dry spell. They'd had a great time, or so he thought; he was really getting into her. She loved animals, so he had arranged an early-morning trip to a zoo (before it opened to the public) to feed her favorite, the dolphins. Her phone rang and rang, until a man answered; apparently, she'd given him a fake number. When Donnie ran into her weeks later, she apologized, explaining she'd simply wanted some dick, and he had fit the bill. 

Ouch. Karma's a b.

Every tour brought a steady stream of no-strings possibilities, but it was like eating food without flavor. Sex without love was.. bland. He searched for his ex's taste in every kiss, but always came up empty.

The few fans who tugged at his heart balked at getting serious, believing he'd always cheat, or simply leave for another. Were they right?

Was this his just desserts for all the one-night stands he'd had over the years, all the girls he'd strung along? 

When would his penance be over?

As it turned out, the Universe had only just begun teaching him a lesson.


	3. From Klaxons to Wedding Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie punishes himself. 
> 
> Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

Early 2013 through to late 2016

It was a dumb show. Why was he even going? Hadn't this chick disappeared into obscurity already?

Then again.. It was also a chance to plug his show, his band, his latest projects. Any publicity is good publicity, right?

He went. She was obvious, even obnoxious. It was.. forced. Desperate. For show. But then she hit on him backstage. Gave him his number. Told him she wanted to sit on his face.

Donnie usually preferred subtle and romantic. This was.. the opposite.

She was different; she was 'known.' Not a fan. Not anonymous.

That was risky.

Two weeks. He waited two weeks to call her. The band went on WWHL, and Donnie hedged on the 'single' question. The truth was, he'd called his ex, asking if there was ever any way, in any dimension of existence, that she would even remotely consider giving him another chance? 

She was gentle, but firm. She was happy. Stable. Things were fine as they were. Water under the bridge, or burned bridges, or some other simile or metaphor or whatever, was used. He heard it all as a 'no.' It took him a while to process that. Part of him had always held out hope; like he'd been holding his breath without realizing it. How many months? How many girls? It all came back to her. Donnie knew now: it always would. 

Donnie called the TV girl. They had a date; he blew off a family gathering for it. It made the news. American flag bikini. Beach date. Happy Fourth of July.

He had doubts; she didn't. She'd done her homework, TV girl. In a wincing, reluctant sort of way, Donnie admired her determination. He *was* always preaching about pursuing your dreams and being positive, wasn't he? Well, she was POSITIVE they were meant to be. So sure, she went and bought him new underwear before they'd even done the deed. The girl had no boundaries. That could be fun, but also, scary. 

Like how she made sure to tell the salesgirl who the jockeys were for.

How many red flags did a man need?

He said 'spending time together.' She said 'dating.' He said 'friend.' She said 'boyfriend.' More TV appearances. More tabloid stories. Things moved faster.

With every article and every sound-bite, he felt himself sinking into the quicksand.

He proposed. Why? Because she'd started talking to the love of her life ex, that's why. Donnie couldn't stand any more rejection, especially one so public. So *documented.* That, and suddenly fifty didn't seem like a spot on the distant horizon. 

It was sort of nice to be wanted by someone so many men jerked off to. Flattering. Right? And besides, she looked *nothing* like his ex. Eat THAT, gossips.

The wedding was recorded to be televised. Everything was to her tastes, making him.. what? An accessory? A prop?

It was TV Girl's show. He was the sideshow, or the warm-up act, or.. whatever.

Honeymoon. New house. Reality show. Pool.

Fights off-camera. Accusations; anger, suspicions, on both sides. Some justified. Over-spending. Over-sharing. Over-involvement with coworkers or fans on an emotional level. But still they smiled for the public. Fooling everyone but the ones in the mirror. Family. Friends. Fans. 

And then the shit hit THE fan.


	4. The Shitteth Hath Hitteth The Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie's life changes again

Late 2016

It had started out as nothing. There were slight discrepancies in the books for her charity; probably some pencil-pusher's calculator battery was fried or something. They hired an independent auditor to come in and straighten it all out. 

Correction: HE hired an auditor. Said auditor brought in a few other experts, and they went over every piece of paper linked to the organization from its inception to the present day. His bride wrung her hands, waiting on tenterhooks. 

One of the pros must have blown the whistle, because soon there were lawyers involved, claiming fraud, money laundering, embezzlement.. big, scary words. Worse than any episode of Blue Bloods. 

Donnie was soon cleared, as he hadn't been as involved in things as she had. The 'errors' went back years, and the numbers were dizzying, growing by the day. Dollar signs danced through his head at night, and he was more uncertain than ever about whom he could trust. 

Things were about to get worse.

Money had been funneled into bank accounts - not just from the charity, but from his own wealth, her earnings, and the allowance he gave her. Why was she squirreling away cash in secret accounts? What else was she hiding?

His wife was deposed. The attorneys - plural - did not spare her. Her previous tax records were combed through, throwing up more dirt and dust upon an already-besmirched name. Credit cards in both names, ones he'd never authorized. A secret apartment, just leased, under one of her aliases. Then there were the more 'personal' bombshells.

Unable to wriggle out of answering, his wife, the one he'd pledged in front of all the world to love forever, had to confess to going behind his back with multiple others - male and female. Some of them were paid for their silence with cash; others, with sex or 'exclusive' tabloid tidbits to be sold. If she hadn't mixed fucking with fraud, the authorities might never have found out about the former. 

She wept, crumbling into her conservative Jackie O pantsuit, mascara running down into her lap, missing the glossy mahogany of the conference table as she drew back into her seat. Oh, it was a pitiful sight; yet he was strangely unmoved.

His own private investigator had long ago given him warning that she was sneaking around. The details were patchy, as she usually went to hotels with beauty salons or spas, covering her motive for the visits. Once inside the building, the investigator had to let her go, and she picked places whose employees were classy enough to resist bribes for information - but Donnie had seen enough. Emerging in the same clothes, hair unchanged, make-up still in place, she clearly hadn't had her hair done or sweated it out in a sauna. He'd been using rubbers with her to keep himself from getting her herpes, or so she thought; really, he was safeguarding his future health, knowing she was cheating.

One by one, friends turned on her. Her follower count plummeted by the thousands overnight, first at the financial fraud revelations, and then in a second wave at the news of her adultery. So much for 'Jugettes' and 'Team Jenny.' Didn't she know? Any enemy of a New Kid is an enemy of the BH fam.

Shows were cancelled. Donnie watched as she repaid the advance on the last-ever, incomplete season of their televised lives. The divorce was bitter, but executed with surgical precision: his second ex wife left with what she'd brought into the marriage (minus what the tax man and other agencies had rightful claim upon). Donnie was older, wiser, and absolutely defeated.

Her fame machine had ground to a halt, only to start up again in a new direction, one she would never have chosen. Donnie took a Twitter hiatus, unable to bear the competing tides of condolences and 'I told you so's. Besides, seeing his ex lambasted on social media gave him no pleasure. He was a bigger man than that.

As a parting gesture, he left the college/adulthood expenses fund for her son intact. It wasn't her money, so wasn't subject to penalties for her crimes. Donnie made sure there was enough in there to cover whatever the boy might need, then removed himself from the equation.

Life was so cold. So empty. Work was a welcome diversion, but even there, playing the happy, well-adjusted husband and father, he felt echoes of a long-lost past stabbing him in the heart.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The heartache was real; it was worse in the morning, or when shooting a high-stress or physically demanding scene. He found it tough to get his breath, his muscles tense and not allowing him a full inhalation. The last scene of the night, he came out in a cold sweat, ruining his make-up. The last thing he remembered was one of the assistants yelling for someone to call 911. That made no sense; it was a family dinner scene...

Donnie woke up, wired to machines, and definitely out of uniform.


	5. The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie lives, but is it really living?

At first, he didn't recognize her in the dark; the lights were low, allowing him to rest - but then he recognized her. How many times had he traced that profile in his half-awake state, watching her face peaceful in sleep? She hadn't aged a day, and he wondered for a moment whether he was dreaming.

"Is it really you?"

She turned when he spoke, taking her eyes off of the television set where they'd been transfixed a moment before. Donnie watched as she fumbled for the remote, hastily shutting off the TV. He wondered at that.

"It's me. How are you feeling?"

Donnie checked in with himself. How *was* he feeling? "Like someone stomped on my chest. What the hell happened?"

Her eyes were watery - or was that a trick of the light? "You.. had a heart attack. Your heart literally stopped for several seconds."

There was a hitch in her voice as she spoke. Donnie reached for her hand, wanting to make that connection, to feel that he was real, and that she was here -

"Don't move that arm; the, uh, the IV.."

The sharp pull of pain confirmed it. "Didn't you tell them I'm left-handed?"

She laughed, though it was a sad laugh. "I didn't get here til after surgery."

Donnie was afraid to look down, suddenly aware of the bandaging binding his torso. "My God."

She squeezed his hand. "You're okay now. Everything is going to be okay."

He paused. "Everything?"

His ex looked away, not wanting to go there. Not now. Maybe not ever.

"I'm here for you. I never stopped caring."

She went on, about the cameraman who did CPR, cameras still rolling. About Tom Selleck tearing up on Entertainment Tonight, hoping his 'son' made a full recovery. About how many flowers were now dispersed through the hospital, sent by fans and distributed generously (because how many bouquets did one man need?). 

"I've missed you." Was he drugged? Donnie felt so, so tired, yet.. peaceful. Happy. How long had it been?

The smile he got was not without its sweetness, but it wasn't what he needed. Wasn't what he wanted.

"I can't stay long. I mean, I've been here for hours, but.." She looked nervously at the darkened television set. "I have to go soon. Just.. don't watch TV, okay?"

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Damn him. He always knew when something was bothering her; it didn't do any good to hide it. Donnie would have to find out sooner or later, so it might as well be now.

"I.. The doctors told me not to tell you yet."

Donnie thought of death, of funerals, of Jordan singing 'I'll Be Loving You Forever' as his casket was lowered into the ground - 

"They found.. they found her, Donnie. She was.."

It must be bad. She never cried over his other women. 

That's when Donnie's first wife told him, in as little detail as possible, about the demise of his second wife. "They don't know if.. if someone did this to her, or if she.. It could've been an accident, or.."

"Or on purpose." He leaned back, resting. It hadn't computed yet. Never, ever had he expected his ex to be consoling him over her lackluster replacement.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for your loss, all of your losses, and I'm sorry I don't have answers for you."

He shook his head. "The answers won't change anything. She left me behind a long time ago."

Donnie wanted to say more, but the nurses were changing shifts, he needed meds, and visiting hours were over.

"Get well soon," she offered from the doorway. He knew she meant it.

He also knew how little he deserved it from her.


	6. Sweet Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie starts to see the warnings. Is it too late?

Donnie woke from the nightmare. A quick scroll through online news told him his second wife was still alive, though the scandalous revelations culminating in their divorce were no dream. His chest hadn't been ripped open - at least, not literally. Donnie did wonder about the dream, though, leaving a voicemail with his doctor for a check up, stat.

Work beckoned. The image of his first wife, tears of concern and relief in her eyes, wouldn't leave him alone - a song stuck on replay.

With the show on hiatus in a week, and no concrete touring plans, Donnie would be alone with his thoughts. His pain.

Maybe he should write some new material. Fans never complained about getting fresh songs, and the creative process had been so cathartic last time around. 

Why not?

Slaving over a notepad, pen in his hand, Donnie pulled words from the air and committed them to paper. Some of the lyrics were raw, almost primal screams; others, quiet, like the muffled beating of a heart. He filled the pages, blistering tales of love lost and crippling regret. Enough to fill an album, he noted.

There had to be other emotions, other sentiments to explore. Ballads were so much more of a challenge than up-tempo numbers; too many of them ventured into cheese and cliché. What was there to be said, or sung, about love, which hadn't been done before?

Donnie dug deep. He watched his wedding video - the *first* wedding - and took notes. Donnie flipped through photo albums, along with mementos she probably didn't know he'd kept: the little just-because notes, the inside jokes, old emails... 

The past was draining. Could he balance old pain with new hope?

A song with two themes?

He worked long into the night. By the time the sun rose, he felt like he had a piece of beautiful truth in his hands.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joey didn't quite get it. He tried to be supportive, but..

"It's, uh, a new style for you, D. Very.. very emo."

Jordan had that deer-in-headlights wide-eyed look, coupled with a forced smile.

"Don't make me mention 'Truck and Fish,' Jord," Donnie threatened. Jordan exercised his right to remain silent.

Jon toyed with his phone, enjoying the ongoing freak-out over the fact that he *still* hadn't been on Twitter. 

"You really are being a dick, Jon," Danny teased.

Jon grinned. "I know."

Donnie gathered up his lyric sheets. "Fine. You don't like any of it. Whatev. No biggie." As he turned to place the pile on an out-of-the-way surface, his elbow jarred the notepad, knocking it to the floor. A loose sheet slid out, coming to a stop. Waiting.

"What's this one like?" Joey reached for it, getting there first.

"Oh, hey, no - that's not for - "

Joey was already reading, mouthing the words. "This one's.. good. Like, ALBUM good."

Donnie stared at the floor. If he wrestled the younger man to get that sheet, it would be destroyed in the process. He couldn't risk it.

Danny read over Joe's shoulder. "Wow."

Even Jordan's face relaxed. THERE was Donnie, golden child, back on form. 

"Jon?"

Joe was waiting for him to glance at it. "What? Not like I'll really *sing it* sing it anyway. Just.. make me some crib notes."

Four glares.

"Okay, okay, I'll look it ovah."

Even Jon was impressed. 

"So it's agreed? We'll give it a try?"

Donnie exhaled slowly. What if she guessed it was about her? Would she be angry? Flattered? Upset?

"Okay. We'll try it. I just.."

Joey clapped a hand on D's shoulder. "I get it. I get this one."

That was all he'd needed to hear.


	7. End Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every thing in its season..

Donnie was nervous. The album was finally being released, and a tour was set to kick off in a few days. How would fans respond to the new sound?

"We put our blood, sweat and tears into this thing," Jordan said, confident. "The fans will respect that."

So much passion and pain, without much in the way of dance music. This album was NKOTB stripped bare, gritty and raw; it was.. intimate. The choice of smaller venues reflected that sensibility. 

That meant they'd see every bit of pain etched on his face. On all their faces, as each man experienced the lyrics in his own way.

"Things will work out," Jon reassured his friend. Donnie had a feeling he meant something more than just the album and the tour.

"Yeah. They will." Danny looked deep into his friend's heart, knowing what he needed. 

"Thanks."

With that, it was time for the release party. 

\------------------------------------------

Donnie's track, "Replay," actually managed to get some time on mainstream pop stations (no oldies lunch hours or retro-cool countdowns, but honest-to-God current playlists). His solos stood out, blowing people away. Donnie had insisted on foregoing auto-tuning for this track, and the occasionally flawed notes made it that much more honest, more immediate. The others had performed backing vocals, but it was *his* song, really and truly, his emotions embedded in digital format for all time.

Fans were quick to pick up on the fact that Donnie had the only writing credit for that song. It didn't take a genius to surmise that it wasn't written with wife number two in mind - but that begged the question: Who was the one he was crying his heart out over?

Newgirl knew it wasn't for her. The zoo date chick? No. This was too deep for that.

By the opening night of the tour, most fans had already guessed it was wife number one. Would the lady in question agree? Would she even care?

\----------------------------------------------------------------

On the way to the hotel, Donnie felt one of his security guards pulling him aside.

"Somebody here to see you. I think you'll like this one."

Donnie, brushing it off. "Not tonight, man. I need to chill."

"Are you sure? I think you wrote a song about this girl once."

Donnie stared. Was this a joke? His heart was doing that pulling thing again.

"Hi," said a familiar voice.

He turned. She was in a plain black tee, jeans, and ankle booties, with her hair down, the way he liked it. In short, she was stunning.

"Hi."

"Can we talk for a minute?"

He wanted to offer to talk for forever, but bit his tongue.

In a quiet corner of the dressing room, Donnie motioned for her to sit, following suit at a respectable distance.

"So.. the show tonight. Wow," she began.

Donnie blushed. "I didn't know you were coming. I would've gotten you comp tickets, if I'd known.."

She reached a hand to him, resting it on his knee. "It's fine. Really. It was sort of.. last minute."

He wondered about that.

"I came alone, if you were wondering."

Was she reading his mind? "Oh?"

"Yeah. He uh.. we.. That is to say, there is no 'we'. Not anymore."

Donnie let that sink in. "I'm sorry." Was he saying it to be polite, or..? He wanted her to be happy. She deserved it.

"I am, too. About.. yours, I mean."

Silence.

"Look.. I know I've said it before, but, I'm really sorry for all I put you through. I don't want any bad blood between us, ever. We have so much history; I'd like to think we still care for each other, even if it's in a different way than we'd planned."

She had a wistful look in her eye. "Yeah. I get that. I feel like that's what you were trying to say in your song."

"YOUR" song. Not 'the', or 'one of the', but 'your.'

"You picked up on that, huh?"

She nodded. "It was beautiful. Really. I loved it. And you know I tell you when I don't like one of your songs," she said, smiling at herself.

"I do know that." He felt the faded sting of past critiques.

"Donnie.."

"Yes?"

She seemed to shake herself from a reverie. "It's, uh, getting late. I have work, and, you - you must be exhausted. I should - yeah."

Not too exhausted to kiss you until you can't breathe, he thought, hoping he didn't say it aloud. If only.

As she turned to leave, Donnie was a gentleman, holding open the door for her. There was a split second where their bodies were separated but aligned, mirroring one another, thrumming with the desire to move closer, to close the gap. To build a new bridge.

"Do me a favor?"

Her face was open, receptive. "What's that?"

"Listen to the song again. Maybe.. maybe a few times. Just keep hitting 'replay.'"

Something in her wavered, and then she nodded. "I will."

Neither of them had made flowery promises to the other, and they'd barely touched - yet, Donnie knew, something unspoken had been planted, growing quietly.

Whatever she thought of him, she had not told him 'no.'

As Donnie fell asleep that night, he listened to their song - she was as much a part of it as his vocals were - and slid into dreams of what could be.

Maybe the Universe was going to let him hit 'replay.'


End file.
